


more than you could ever know

by tessavirtch



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 3+1 Things, Angst, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Smut, see chapter summaries for each chapter's rating/tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-27 14:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessavirtch/pseuds/tessavirtch
Summary: Three times Tessa and Scott “don’t do gifts” for Christmas, technically, and one time they do.





	1. 1999

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with the Christmas fics! Didn't get it out of my system the first time, I guess!
> 
> Title is from All I Want For Christmas is You. There's no relation to my other fic named after that song, I'm just Bad At Titles™.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **chapter rating:** general audiences  
>  **chapter tags:** fluff, humor, drama queen scott moir

“I wish Dad or Danny or Charlie would have brought me here,” Scott huffs as he and Alma make their way up the Virtues’ long driveway.

“Well, I’m the one you’re stuck with, so I guess you’d better get used to it,” Alma retorts, reaching out to ring the doorbell.

Scott glares at her and clenches his jaw. “Whatever.”

The front door swings open, and there’s Kate Virtue, looking chic in what she probably considers loungewear. “Merry Christmas!” she sings, pulling Alma in for a tight hug, wrapping an arm around Scott to pull him in as well. “I’m so glad you could make it, please come in.”

Scott smiles genuinely at Kate, before turning and shooting another glare at his own mother. As the two women begin to catch up, Scott walks past them into the living room and spots Tessa sitting on the couch, curled in on herself and holding a book. He sits next to her and she startles, placing her bookmark in the center of the book and closing it.

“Hi Scott,” she says, sitting upright and stretching, and he can’t tell how long she was curled up on the couch, though it must have been a long time judging by how cozy she looks.

“Hi,” he says back, attempting to cover up any bit of tension so as not to upset her, knowing that his attitude always has a major influence on hers.

It doesn’t seem to work, though; Tessa hesitates to say anything else, instead silently fiddling with a loose piece of thread coming off of the arm of the couch. Scott doesn’t want to push it.

Alma walks over to the couch and sits down between Tessa and Scott. Scott shifts uncomfortably.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Tessa,” she says, handing her a small wrapped box.

Tessa squeals with excitement. “Thank you so much! That’s so kind, you didn’t have to get me anything! Should I open it now?” she asks.

“If you’d like,” Alma responds.

She tears at the wrapping paper to reveal a simple black case containing a pair of cat-eye sunglasses with oversized frames. She gasps sharply, taking the sunglasses out of the case and trying them on herself. She pushes herself off of the couch and runs to the bathroom mirror to check out her reflection. When she returns, she throws her arms around Alma’s neck. “Thank you! I love them! They’re just like _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ ,” she says sweetly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Alma says, rubbing Tessa’s back.

Scott rolls his eyes.

Alma stands and makes her way into the kitchen to help Kate set everything out for dinner.

Tessa glances at Scott, beaming. They look at each other quietly for a moment, Tessa cocking her head to the side, studying him. It occurs to him that maybe they were supposed to get gifts for each other and suddenly he feels like an idiot.

“Oh, um,” he begins fidgeting. “I didn’t—“

“No, it’s alright!” she interjects. “That’s not what I—I mean, neither did I.”

He relaxes, nodding before they get up and go sit at the dining table together.

Everyone assembles at the table, and they all eat and share stories and laugh. Things are going well, actually. That is, until Scott begins to tell a story about an incident at school and his voice breaks in the middle of his tale.

He stops talking, embarrassed.

“Scotty, your puberty is showing,” Alma says, making a genuine effort to ease the tension and relax him with a joke. It doesn’t work. She chuckles good-naturedly, and he hears Jordan giggling from the other end of the table as well.

“It’s not funny,” Scott says through gritted teeth, and he gets up from the table, needing to get away. “Excuse me,” he mumbles in Kate’s direction, not wanting to be rude.

He slips out of the back door, fuming, fighting the urge to throw a tantrum that he’s entirely too old for. He plops down onto one of the porch steps, crossing his arms over his chest, kicking a rock back and forth between his feet.

_Nobody ever takes me seriously_ , he thinks, kicking the rock at his feet off of the step and into the yard. It ricochets off of the grass, making a soft thud each time it lands.

He stares out into the yard, observing. Tessa’s family has such a nice place. He almost wants to feel jealous looking at it, but he can’t, because it’s what she deserves. It’s what the Virtues all deserve.

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine a future where he has a house like this of his own. He’ll be a famous hockey player, probably, ten years older, devilishly handsome, immensely talented. Nobody will ever make fun of him for his voice, or his dreams, or his emotions. And none of these people will ever be invited to visit him.

Except for Tessa, of course. She can come whenever she wants. He’ll even get a place with a guest house just for her.

He envisions himself on a late night talk show, hamming it up for the cameras after effectively being the one to ensure his team’s win at the Stanley Cup that year, their first major victory in decades. _You know, Johnny_ , he’ll say, _I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for all of the people that didn’t believe in me when I was a kid._

_What do you mean, Scott?_ Johnny would inquire.

_Well, they inspired me to work harder. I’ve built my career around trying to prove them all wrong._ He’ll look directly into the camera here, expression somewhere between cocky and hopeful. _Mom, if you’re watching this, I’m willing to forgive you for making fun of me at Tessa’s house on Christmas when I was twelve. I’m a bigger man now, and I—_

He snaps back into reality when he feels a small hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Hey,” she says softly. “You alright?”

He sighs, leaning slightly into Tessa’s touch. “Fine. Just tired of everyone making fun of me. Mom’s been doing it all day.”

She walks around him, coming to sit next to him on the step. “Comes with the territory of being a kid, I guess. We’ll understand when we’re older. ‘Least that’s what my mom says.”

“Well, do me a favor, and remind me to never treat my kids like that.”

She chuckles softly, putting an arm around him and giving his opposite shoulder a few reassuring taps before dropping her arm again.

They sit quietly, staring at their shoes, breathing in the crisp winter air for several minutes, Scott still cooling down as his frustration slowly dissipates.

“Scott?” Tessa is the first to speak up.

“Yeah?”

“I know we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore,” she begins.

“For the sake of our career,” he supplies. He feels a bit guilty remembering his awkward, cowardly ‘breakup’ phone call a few years prior.

“Yes, for the sake of our career,” she continues, smiling, turning to face him and taking a deep breath before continuing, “but is it alright if I kiss you?”

Scott’s breath hitches.  “Okay. If you want to.”

“I want to,” she nods, biting down on her bottom lip. She begins to lean in, slowly, seemingly testing her own bravery. She pauses while hovering a few inches away from him, eyes drifting shut, and she angles her head differently, diverting from her path to his lips, instead opting to press a light kiss against his cheek.

Scott can feel heat blossoming where Tessa’s lips have just touched, spreading quickly across his cheeks and neck. He knows he must be bright red; he hopes she doesn’t notice.

She pulls away, opening her eyes and cocking her head to the side with a small smile. She looks over his face for some kind of reaction. He avoids eye contact. She lets out a giggle.

Yeah, she noticed. Because of course she did.

He can’t help the bashful smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Stop it, I know.”

Another giggle. “It’s just cute, that’s all.”

“ _You’re_ cute,” he retaliates, immediately realizing that it’s not the comeback he was hoping for.

Now it’s her turn to be bashful. “Thanks,” she says, turning away and gently shoving at his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, dork.”

He chuckles softly, shoving her back. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”


	2. 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **chapter rating:** teen and up audiences  
>  **chapter tags:** angst, teen angst, hurt/comfort, hopeful ending  
>  **chapter warnings:** eating disorder mention, self harm mention

This sucks.

Tessa stares out of her window watching the snow fall, layering on top of the foot and a half that has already accumulated, anger bubbling inside of her and threatening to boil over.

It’s the first time she’s had to spend Christmas away from home.

The amount of snowfall was a bit unexpected. Had they known that it was going to get this severe, they would have left Canton a few days earlier to make sure that they missed it to get home for the holidays. But what started as a light dusting quickly grew into knee-deep piles of the stuff literally overnight, and they know from experience that the highways in the Detroit metro area are a nightmare in the snow, despite the fact that they get about as much of it as the London area does.

So they’re stuck in Canton. On Christmas. And Tessa is alone.

Unable to stand watching the snow falling anymore, she pulls violently at the cord to close the blinds, closes the curtains, and plops onto the couch. She grabs the remote and flips through the channels in search of a terrible, plotless Christmas movie to distract her from the emotions threatening to spill over. She lands on something where the protagonist is a scrappy little girl, and turns the volume down so that it’s quiet enough not to be distracting and just loud enough that she could actually pay attention if she should choose to do so.

Instead, however, she stares at the ceiling, lost in thought, brooding.

They’ve been living and training in Canton for a while now and Tessa still hasn’t gotten completely comfortable. The other girls there aren’t very nice; they’re always staring at her, scrutinizing everything she wears, everything she says, everything she eats, everything she _does_. Nobody really talks to her. She’s eaten more lunches in the bathroom than she can count.

At first she had assumed that it was because they were new. A sort of hazing, maybe. But now, after being here for over a year, new faces popping in periodically, it has become abundantly clear that it’s not because they’re new, it’s just because she’s _her_.

She’d never let anybody know that it bothered her. Instead, she builds a fortress for herself, remaining stoic, not giving in to their stares and snide remarks. Calm and collected. Always.

They don’t need to know about all of the times she’s laid awake at night, screaming into her pillow, nose running with constant streams of tears leaking from her eyes. They don’t need to know about her most recent nightly routine of going for a run, freezing wind like needles against every inch of her body, pushing harder and faster until the only things she can feel are the burning in her chest and soreness in her limbs. They don’t need to know that she’s developed obsessive tendencies with her food and that everything she eats is meticulously planned and documented, with no calorie limit per se, but no shortage of self-imposed rules; nothing processed, not too many carbs, not too much fat, maybe a square of dark chocolate at night if she hasn’t broken any of the rules that day.

They don’t need to know. It’s not their business. It’s nobody’s business but her own.

Not that anyone cares anyway.

She feels her eyes burning, tears forming and threatening to spill over. She wants her mom. Feels like a child for it. (Is a child, technically, as much as she hates to admit it.)

She does the next best thing. She reaches onto the side table next to the couch for the flip phone her parents gave her when they moved to Canton, sends a text message to Scott (“ _Come over?_ ”) and waits for his reply (“ _Ok,_ ” about two minutes later) before flipping the phone shut and turning her focus to the movie on television. It’s a really terrible movie.

Several minutes later there’s a knock at the door. Tessa lifts herself off of the couch, padding over to the door. She finds Scott there, and he smiles at her when she opens the door. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she repeats almost shyly, not sure what to say now that he’s here. She meditates on it for a split second before settling on, “I was feeling lonely.”

He pulls her into a tight hug. “Me too. This kind of sucks, eh?”

She laughs lightly against his shoulder. It really does. “Wanna watch a movie? I was watching this one where,” she glances over at the screen, realizing she has no idea what the movie is about. “Um. Well there’s a little girl, and she seems to be feisty. I think she might be bullying Santa? That’s all I’ve got.”

He chuckles. “Sounds great.”

They sit on the couch and Scott wraps an arm around Tessa, rubbing her shoulder absentmindedly. “I would’ve gotten you something. If I would have known we would be stuck here alone. I think it would have made this better,” he rambles.

“It’s alright,” she says. And it is. Gifts aren’t their thing, anyway. Him being here is more than enough.

He tightens his arm around her and keeps rubbing her shoulder, slowly and gently. She knows he isn’t doing it consciously, probably doesn’t realize that it’s happening at all, but it makes her feel comforted. She doesn’t feel so alone anymore; she knows he’ll always be there for her. He has been for the last eight years. Will be for the next eighty, probably. He’ll never leave her. He’ll be a constant in her life forever.

And now the stupid tears are back.

She rests her head on Scott’s lap and he moves his hand to run his fingers through her hair. She’s letting her tears fall freely now, but working to keep her breathing steady so as not to alert Scott to her silent breakdown.

They sit like that for a few minutes: Tessa holding her breath to keep the sobs at bay, Scott stroking her hair, the television providing light and background noise.

She’s almost regulated her breathing when Scott decides to break their silence.

“It’s going to be okay.”

He could tell she was upset. Of course he could.

It’s all it takes for the wall of strength she had spent the last ten minutes (or, more realistically: the last year) constructing to come crumbling down. She lets out a sob and buries her face against Scott’s thigh, hot tears flowing and leaving wet spots on the denim of his jeans. He rubs gentle circles into her back, a reassuring gesture, though it coaxes out a few more sobs nonetheless.

She pushes herself up off of his lap, sitting up straight as she wipes the moisture from her eyes and takes a few deep breaths in an effort to regain her composure.

“Scott,” she whimpers, “what are we doing here?”

“We were watching a movie. Then you started crying. And now we’re here.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Right. There was too much snow on the roads for us to make it back home for Christmas.”

“ _Scott_."

“Alright,” he sighs. “We’re here because we want to be the best. Because we both know we _can_ be the best. So we have to train with the best. Even if it means things are going to suck for a while. And even if it means we have to spend Christmas away from our families because these Americans don’t know how to deal with all of this snow.”

She lets out a soft chuckle, sniffling and wiping at her eyes again.

“It’ll just take some adjustment,” he continues, “maybe even a few more years, before we’re totally comfortable here. But I know it will be worth it.” He pauses for a beat. “Maybe we’ll even make it to the Olympics.”

“Please,” she snorts. “You’re being humble. We won’t just _make it_ to the Olympics, we’re going to win gold,” she teases, a mischievous glint in her teary eyes.

“You’re right. More than once, probably. Because you know we’re going to have to come back for a victory lap after our first,” he adds, playing along.

They laugh together at the scenario they’ve created. It’s only a fantasy, and she knows it will probably never happen, but the thought does make her feel better, at least for now.

Who knows, anyway? She’s sixteen, he’s eighteen, and they still have their whole lives ahead of them. Anything could happen.

It doesn’t hurt to dream.


	3. 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **chapter rating:** explicit  
>  **chapter tags:** smut, plot what plot/porn without plot, teasing, light exhibitionism, light dom/sub, orgasm delay/denial, praise kink if you squint but not really from whom you would expect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for a massive change in tone because now, coming from the creator of Angsty Adolescents™ parts one and two, I bring you: Horny Adults™!
> 
> A few things:  
> 1) Tessa was home for the holidays in 2016 and not in Montreal, and Scott probably was as well. I know this. But also, this is RPF about ice dancers fucking each other so hopefully you can suspend your disbelief a bit further to make this work.  
> 2) I know my 11-year jump from 2005 to 2016 is extremely loud but I am choosing to tiptoe around the surgeries and Sochi eras at this time because it's all quite heavy and I have poor upper body strength.  
> 3) I've never written smut before. Honestly I've barely written anything AT ALL before. So this has definite disaster potential. I don't know. You tell me.
> 
> Enjoy!

Scott’s phone buzzes.

He glances at the screen and sees a new photo from Tessa, accompanied by a text message:

_Which one?_

He taps the notification, opening her message thread to study the picture she sent. Laid out on her white bed sheets are three sets of lingerie: a black velvet set, a red satin set, and a lacy dark green set.

His heart races at the implication of her message. He’s still getting used to this new, openly sexual element of their relationship. When they decided to come back to competition, they agreed: no dating, no distractions—not until they win their all-important gold medals in 2018.

When making this vow, they didn’t realize that their newfound confidence, coupled with the rush of endorphins from their new and improved training regime, would have their sex drives ramped up higher than they’d ever been. So they have sex sometimes. Or a lot of times. They do it to help each other out; what are friends for, after all?

It’s not like they never had sex before this; it’s just that this is the closest it’s ever come to resembling a healthy, functional sexual relationship for them. And they aren’t technically breaking their self-imposed rules by doing this; they aren’t dating—though the jury is still out on whether they’re distracting each other.

He focuses his attention back on the photo, studying each lingerie set, picturing them against Tessa’s skin. After careful consideration, he sends back:

_Green._

He ponders for a moment, before adding:

_Though I do love the velvet. Feels nice._

A few seconds later, his phone buzzes again with Tessa’s response:

_:)_

_I may have a solution._

He waits a moment for further explanation, but receives none. He’ll just see what she came up with when she gets here, he supposes.

He hooks his phone up to his speakers, putting on a jazzy Christmas playlist as he helps his mother string decorations across his apartment. He takes breaks periodically to greet guests as they arrive; mostly other skaters and employees from the rink, though his brothers have flown in to spend the holiday in Montreal this year and are in attendance as well.

He makes his way to the kitchen to place the finishing touches on a few appetizers and pulls out a recipe card for a chocolate dipping sauce, following the recipe precisely.

“Need help with anything?” Tessa asks from behind him, almost as if she had been summoned by the smell of the chocolate, and he startles, dropping the wooden spoon into the saucepan. He turns to look at her, and she’s dressed in a jewel-toned purple velvet dress that hugs at her features, her hair down in loose curls.

“Nah, I think I’m about done in here,” he responds, not particularly wanting her to get involved with the cooking anyway, a sure kiss of death. He holds out the spoon, coated in chocolate sauce, for her to take it. “Let me know if this tastes alright, or if it needs any more sugar or anything?”

She doesn’t take the spoon. Instead, she comes to stand next to him and wraps her lips around the bowl of the spoon while he holds it, locking eyes with him. He inhales sharply, watching as she slowly pulls back off of the spoon, licking it clean as she goes, not breaking eye contact. She rubs her thumb along her bottom lip, wiping away the chocolate that had gathered there before putting her thumb into her mouth and licking it off.

Scott clenches his jaw and breathes deeply through his nose, trying to focus all of his attention on not burning the chocolate sauce, or just generally on absolutely anything other than the feeling of all of the blood in his body unceremoniously rushing toward his dick; valiantly trying to will himself not to get hard right here, right now, with all of his friends and family waiting in the next room.

“It’s good,” Tessa says, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah?” he asks, trying to keep his tone even.

“Yeah,” she responds, low and raspy, and apparently at some point she had wrapped a hand around his bicep without him noticing but now suddenly it’s all he can feel, her fingers warm and firm against the fabric of his t-shirt.

He drops the spoon onto the counter, grabbing at her hip with one hand and threading his fingers through her hair with the other.

She leans forward, excruciatingly slowly and places a few kisses along his collarbone, the sensation sending a shiver through his whole body even through his shirt. She pushes him up against the counter, placing a hand on either side of him, pinning him there while she presses her hips up against his. She places several open-mouthed kisses along his jaw before licking a wet stripe up the side of his neck. She stops when she reaches his pulse point, resting her lips there for a moment before scraping her teeth against the skin, then sucking on it gently, and he knows she can feel how rapidly his heart is pounding.

She hovers her lips over his ear, her breath hot against his skin. “I’m going to see if your mom needs any help decorating,” she whispers, giving a last little nip at his earlobe before dancing away from him—and then she’s gone, leaving him alone in his kitchen, mouth agape, half-hard, and suddenly really not sure what to do with his hands.

He’s vaguely aware of the smell of burning, turning around to turn off the stove before rubbing his eyes and softly hitting his head against the countertop, unable to focus on the damage done to the chocolate sauce.

He rests his head against the counter for a moment, the cool surface regulating his body temperature, calming him. He stays there for a few minutes until he hears Tessa calling his name in a singsong voice from the other room, playful and innocent as if she doesn’t know what she’s just done.

It’s going to be a long night.

He straightens his spine, sucking in a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever is about to come. He grabs a ladle, scooping out as much chocolate sauce as he can salvage and transferring it into a serving dish on the fresh fruit platter.

The sound of laughter greets him as he enters the dining room. He sees Tessa and his mother seated across from each other at the table telling animated stories to one another and his heart swells at the sight. He walks over and sets the tray on the table in front of them.

“Hello ladies,” he says, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Tessa.

“Hey,” Tessa responds, plucking a strawberry from the fruit platter and dipping it into the chocolate before biting into it. Scott is unable to focus on anything else when a flood of juice trickles over her bottom lip and onto her chin, staining her lips red, and he stares as her tongue darts out to lick it away. “What took you so long in there?”

“I…” he trails off when he feels her hand coming to rest on his thigh. He looks up from her lips to meet her eyes, and the devilish glint there promptly undoes all of the work he did cooling off in the kitchen. She begins slowly and steadily moving her hand up his thigh and his pulse quickens.

“Scott?” Alma asks from across the table, and Scott is shaken from his trance, snapping his head around to look at her.

“...don’t know,” he finishes his thought. “I don’t know!” he repeats.

Tessa and Alma are both looking at him like he’s got two heads, and he almost despises how well Tessa is able to feign innocence right now.

“Has it gotten louder in here?” he asks, looking around to see if anyone new has arrived. So far, it’s just the three of them, Scott’s brothers, and a handful of people from the rink.

“The opposite, actually,” Alma corrects. “I think your music stopped.”

“Ooh, better go put your ‘Christmas Jazz’ back on,” Tessa teases, punctuated with a light stroke of his thigh.

“On it,” he says, practically jumping out of his seat and pacing across the room to where his phone is hooked up to a speaker. He picks up his phone to see that Tessa sent him another photo, with no caption, about thirty minutes ago. He sucks in a sharp breath as he stares at the tiny thumbnail on the notification and is able to make out her defined abs— _god, this comeback is treating her well_ —and the very bottom of the forest green bra he had chosen for her earlier, her hand delicately draped across the front of the matching panties, one finger pressing against her clit through the fabric.

He nearly drops his phone, ears turning pink. He unlocks it, not opening the message from Tessa to look at the full-size photo, saving it for later. He hits the play button on his playlist, making sure to put it on repeat this time. Michael Bublé’s voice begins playing over the speakers and Scott makes his way back over to the table where Tessa and Alma are deep in conversation.

He slides back into his seat next to Tessa and she picks up where she left off, scraping her fingernails up his leg and bringing her hand to rest on his upper thigh.

“I can’t imagine what he would be like if it weren’t for you. You’ve made him so much softer.” Alma says, holding Tessa’s free hand on top of the table.

Scott almost wants to laugh at the irony; at how Tessa is doing exactly the opposite of that right now. Any thought of laughter is promptly forgotten as her hand makes its way up to his groin. He grits his teeth, fighting his body’s urge to react to the touch.

“You’re such a good girl,” Alma continues as Tessa wraps her fingers around the bulge in his jeans and begins lightly stroking him through the denim. “Such a good influence.”

Scott cannot fucking believe this is happening.

”Yeah,” he mutters. “Totally. Hey Tess?”

She hums in response, only glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Alma gets up from her chair, mumbles a quick “be right back” to Tessa and Scott, grabs her empty cup, and heads to the kitchen. Tessa moves her hand to a far more acceptable position on Scott’s leg as Alma walks past.

“Do you want to help me wrap some gifts?” he continues.

She turns to look at him now, confused. “Sure?”

“They’re in my room,” he explains, quirking an eyebrow at her. “You don’t have to help. I can wrap them myself... if you’d rather stay out here.”

He can see the gears turning in her head before she smiles sweetly at him, a glint in her eye. “Of course I’ll help. Do we need to wrap them now, though? Aren’t the gifts for the end of the party?”

“Can’t wait. Just so excited to give everyone their gifts. You’ve got me in the Christmas spirit,” he mumbles sardonically.

“Well, let’s get to work then,” she smirks.

They begin making their way to Scott’s bedroom, Scott walking behind Tessa in an attempt to hide his erection from the guests in the living room. He spots Alma heading back toward the dining room. “Hey Ma, we’re going to wrap some gifts. Don’t come in, and if anyone new gets here, tell them we’ll be out soon.”

Alma nods.

Scott follows Tessa into his room, closing the door behind him, and immediately after he turns around she has him pinned to the door, one hand at the back of his neck pulling his face down to meet hers. She kisses him hard, tongue darting out to slide across his bottom lip before she nips at it.

Kissing Tessa Virtue is a privilege. Scott knows that. As with everything in her life, she does it with such beauty and power that he wonders if maybe she’s been professionally trained in this, too. Kissing Tessa is an experience unlike any other, all soft lips, perfectly placed hands, breathy sighs, and love. He doesn’t take this privilege for granted in the slightest, fully drinking in every moment he gets to spend with his lips on hers.

But right now he’s so hard it’s painful and, lovely as it may be, kissing Tessa is not going to make anything better on that front.

Breaking their kiss, he flips them so that she’s against the door and slowly sinks to his knees, kissing along her body as he goes.

“Okay?” he asks, grabbing at the hem of her dress.

“Yeah,” she breathes, and he bunches up the bottom of her dress, pushing it up so that it sits just above her hips. She’s wearing the lacy green panties; the ones from the picture, the ones he chose.

“This was a good choice,” he says, admiring for a moment.

He puts a hand on the back of each of her thighs and begins peppering kisses against her skin, beginning above one of her knees and slowly working toward her inner thigh. The kisses once he gets to her thigh are much more deliberate, slow, and tender, and he feels her muscles tense under him. He begins to move across her body to her other thigh, his breath ghosting against her center, and she reaches down to tangle one of her hands in his hair, holding him there.

He can take a hint.

He breathes against her again, intentionally this time, and it draws a soft whimper from her that makes him ache for her. He flattens his tongue and licks the full length of her over the lace of her panties, and he looks up at her to see her head falling back against the door as she tugs harder at his hair, grabbing at one of her breasts with her other hand. He reaches under the elastic of her panties to push them to the side, running a finger through her folds as he does, and he can’t believe how wet she is.

He practically dives in, licking at her folds and feeling her body sing in response. He circles her clit a few times before sucking on it lightly and rubbing it with his tongue. She sucks in a sharp breath, and he feels her tensing up above him. It doesn’t take long before he notices her legs beginning to tremble, causing her balance to falter.

“Stop,” she hisses, pushing at his head. He pulls away immediately and looks up at her, concern etched in his features.

“No, I just mean—“ she pants, stroking his cheek, noting his concern. “You first.”

He feels himself twitch beneath his jeans, straining against the denim. He nods.

“Get up here,” she instructs, and he practically jumps to his feet. She pulls him into a kiss, pushing him toward the bed until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. She fumbles with the button of his jeans, not breaking their kiss, licking into his mouth, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue. He helps her, unbuttoning the jeans himself and pushing them down. She pushes down on his shoulders, and he sits on the edge of his bed.

She kneels in front of him, biting her bottom lip, face flushed and eyes dark, and he snaps a mental image to save for later. She pulls his boxers down and his cock springs free. She removes both his jeans and his boxers from around his ankles and tosses them aside.

She licks a stripe up the underside of him and he lets out a loud grunt before he can stop himself. A smile plays at the corners of her lips. She sucks at his tip and his hips jump. He’s more sensitive right now than he thinks he’s ever been, and she knows it, and he only hopes that she won’t use this information for evil. Brushing her hair out of her face, she takes him farther into her mouth, cupping his balls with one hand and rolling them gently as she bobs her head a few times. He bucks into her mouth again involuntarily.

She puts one hand on his hip, holding him down, and he instinctively reaches down to lace their fingers together. He gives her fingers a squeeze when she swallows him down, taking in his full length, and he feels his tip hit the back of her throat. He’s panting heavily and he knows he’s being too loud but it already takes everything in him not to moan so loudly that the whole country can hear it. She begins steadily bobbing her head, building a rhythm that’s making him see stars.

Scott is only very faintly aware of the sound of footsteps approaching in the hall as Tessa slows her movements slightly, drawing a few desperate whimpers from him. She pulls off of him with a pop as the footsteps draw closer, replacing her mouth with her hand and pumping him a few times, slowly. Scott groans, bucking into her hand, and the footsteps stop. The hall is quiet for a moment. Tessa stills her hand and turns her head toward the door, listening, focusing.

“Tessaaa,” Scott groans.

The footsteps promptly resume, this time going in the opposite direction down the hall. Tessa grabs a throw blanket and tosses it over Scott’s lower half, then jumps to her feet and over to the door. She cracks the door open and peeks into the hallway, looking like she’s ready to do damage control.

Scott clenches his jaw, watching as she steps out into the hall. It’s quiet for a moment and he focuses on his breathing, jaw still shut tight, beginning to worry that their cover has been blown. Then he hears her laugh before slipping back into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her.

“Marie and Patch are here,” she informs him.

“Great,” Scott hisses through gritted teeth.

She’s back kneeling between his knees now, throwing the blanket off of him. “What’s the matter, Scott?” she teases, placing open-mouthed kisses against his thighs. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me,” he pants, and the desperation in his voice is palpable. “Please.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Tessa responds, pushing herself off of the floor and slipping her panties down her legs unceremoniously, kicking them off and away from the bed.

“You’re still on birth control?” he asks, tugging his shirt over his head.

“Yeah,” she responds as she straddles him, grinding against him, and the feeling of her wetness rubbing against his cock, finally, makes his vision go fuzzy around the edges. His head falls back and she scrapes her teeth against his throat, wrapping a hand into his hair and pulling at it. The sensation makes his head roll forward, coming to rest on her shoulder.

She rolls her hips against him a few times, slowly, reaching down with one hand to rub at her clit, using the hand in his hair to guide him into a bruising kiss. She releases him and his head falls forward again, his eyes drifting shut as he licks at her neck. The whine it draws from her makes his head spin.

“You’re ridiculous,” he growls against her. “You’re absolutely fucking ridiculous.”

“Excuse me?” she asks, pushing at his shoulder to make him look at her as she feigns offense.

“I’m sorry, I was ki—“

He’s abruptly shut up as she sinks onto him, effectively pushing all of the air out from his lungs. He wasn’t sure if this moment was ever going to come, he really wasn’t. He squeezes his eyes shut and they both let out a long, low moan, perfectly in sync as if it had been rehearsed, and he would probably laugh if he could focus on anything other than the feeling of her warmth around his cock. But that won’t be happening any time soon.

She rocks her hips against him, eyelids fluttering, letting out tiny, beautiful whimpers, and he can tell that she had gotten nearly as desperate for this as he had, almost loathes how well she was able to stay in control and draw it out.

She pushes him so that he’s lying on his back now and she leans over, following after him, slotting her lips against his as she grinds against him, her clit rubbing against him with every movement, and _fuck_ , he knows this isn’t going to last long.

He reaches under the hem of her dress to grab at her ass, and she lets out a soft gasp, head falling down onto his shoulder as she wraps her arms around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Tess,” he pants, grabbing at her hips. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” she responds, breathless. She doubles down her efforts, grinding harder and faster into him. She licks at his jaw and it makes him shiver, every one of his nerve endings standing on edge. Her movements are becoming erratic and he tightens his grip on her hips, guiding her.

Her mouth falls open in a silent scream as she climaxes, her walls pulsing around him, fingernails digging into his skin. She bites down on his shoulder to subdue her screams and then he’s tumbling after her, spilling into her with a groan as she continues to clench around him.

She rocks against him a few more times, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm, before collapsing against him, pressing a light kiss against his cheek and nuzzling his neck. He tips his head to the side to rest against hers and drags his fingertips gently up her spine, making her shiver on top of him.

“That tickles,” she pouts, rolling off of him, pushing her dress back down over her hips. He rolls onto his side, kissing her temple in response. She rolls over to face him. “We still need to wrap the gifts. They’re going to be suspicious out there.”

“I wrapped them all yesterday. They’re in the closet,” he assures her, reaching down absentmindedly and holding her hand in his. “There are a lot, so we probably have about ten more minutes before it looks like anything is going on.”

“A lot of gifts, you say? And what did you get for me?” she teases.

“You’re looking at it,” he responds, waggling his eyebrows and bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at him playfully. She rolls off of Scott’s bed, gathering his clothes and throwing them on top of his naked body before grabbing her panties and slipping them back on. “I’m going to get cleaned up,” she says. “Please put some clothes on, Moir, you’ve got guests out there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the comments section for a brief deleted/extended scene with Patrice from Tessa's POV. I couldn't figure out how to fit in Scott's POV, so it didn't make the final cut, but the thought of getting rid of it completely physically pained me.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr now, I guess (@tessa-virtch), and Twitter as always (@tessavirtch), if you would like to be pals.
> 
> THANK YOU for reading!!


	4. 2021

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **chapter rating:** teen and up audiences  
>  **chapter tags:** fluff, tooth rotting fluff (truly), domestic

“You’re being such a Virgo about this,” Tessa huffs, crossing her arms and pouting as Scott slips a sheet of Christmas tree-shaped cookies into the oven.

“Maybe,” he muses. “But you know these cookies are going to come out perfect.”

He holds out a hand, and she squints at it for a moment before uncrossing her arms and taking it. He leads her into their living room and plops down onto his back on the couch, pulling her on top of him. She lands with a soft exhale, folding her arms across his chest and propping her head up to look at him as she settles.

“Were you always like this?” she asks. “I mean, I know you were a perfectionist at the rink, but at home, I mean—did you make a habit of telling your mother that her mixing and cookie cutting skills weren’t up to snuff?”

“Of course not,” he replies playfully. “Because they _were_ up to snuff.”

Tessa’s mouth falls open in a gasp, feigning offense. “Take it back!”

He tips his head forward to kiss her forearm, placating her. The way that he did not, in fact, take it back doesn’t get past her—but she decides to let it go, nuzzling into him as he wraps his arms around her.

“You’d be lucky to have a Virgo kid like me around.” he teases.

She smiles, tracing circles on his chest with her index finger. “I know we don’t usually do gifts—”

“Yeah,” he interjects, “I have something for you too.”

She pushes herself up to look at his face. “Yeah?”

He nods, eyes darting away as he fiddles with the fabric at the hem of her shirt.

“Should we get them now?” she asks, butterflies forming in her stomach.

He pauses for a moment before swallowing and nodding again.

“Alright,” she says, beginning to stand. “Be right back.”

She paces to the bedroom and grabs a long, thin box wrapped in silver and white floral paper from her underwear drawer. She looks it over, holding it up to her heart before making her way back into the living room.

She finds Scott standing next to the couch, fiddling with a gift bag in his hands. She eyes him suspiciously before sitting down on the couch and patting the space next to her for him to sit. They both shift so that they’re sitting cross-legged, facing each other, both still clutching at their gifts.

“You should go first,” they say in unison, drawing a loud laugh out of Tessa. She ponders it. She really wants, _needs_ , to see Scott’s reaction to this.

“Same time?” she suggests. Maybe, she thinks, she can open his gift quickly and look up in time to catch his reaction.

He seems to think on it too before nodding. He looks down and tears at the wrapping paper and Tessa digs into her gift bag, pulling out tissue paper and tossing it aside. Her fingers close around something velvet and she pulls it out of the bag.

A ring box.

Her pulse quickens and she slowly opens the box, not wanting to make a snap assumption, and oh, her assumption was right, that’s a diamond ring. An engagement ring.

Her mind goes blank. She feels tears welling up in her eyes but shakes them away, closing the box. He hasn’t actually asked yet, after all.

“Scott, isn’t there something you’re supposed to ask me?”

He stares down at the thin plastic stick in his hands, silent and unmoving, and she suddenly remembers where she is and who she is and who Scott is and what is happening right now.

“Scott?” She repeats, softer this time, brushing her fingers across his cheek and cupping his chin, tilting his face up to look at her. 

The air is sucked from her lungs at the sight of him; eyes shining, brimming with tears, a soft smile playing at his lips while his chin trembles. She finds herself mirroring his expression when he surges forward, still clutching the pregnancy test, and wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace, face pressed against her shoulder.

She feels him shaking against her, her sweatshirt growing damp where his face rests. She wraps her arms tighter around him, clutching him and pressing kisses against every inch of him that she can reach, a few tears spilling from her own eyes. She rubs his back and his breathing slowly evens out.

He gives her a last little squeeze before pulling away to kiss her slow and sweet, and his lips taste like salty tears, and joy, and love, and home, she thinks.

She breaks their kiss to lean her forehead against his, bringing both hands up to his face and wiping at his tears before letting them rest at the junction of his neck and his shoulders. Scott tenderly places both of his hands on her stomach, letting out a choked laugh-sob as another tear slips down his cheek.

“Guess I’m lucky,” Tessa breathes out, leaning forward to kiss the tear off of Scott’s cheek. “Should be a Virgo.”

Scott chuckles, pulling away from her and rubbing his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. Tessa grabs the forgotten ring box and moves to place it on the coffee table, but Scott stops her.

“Oh!” he exclaims, taking the box from her hands before opening it and presenting it to her. “Marry me?” he says weakly, voice trembling.

“Of course,” Tessa nods, giggling.

“I had a whole thing planned—“

She cuts him off with a kiss.

“This couldn’t have been more perfect,” she assures him. He removes the ring from the box and slips it onto her finger before bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss it softly.

“I love you,” he says, rubbing the back of her hand and studying her features.

“I love you,” she repeats. She sniffles, wiping at the wetness on her own cheeks before chuckling softly. “This has been the cheesiest moment of my entire life.”

Scott lets out a breathy laugh. “You know me. Mister Cheese.”

“I thought Mister Cheese was your father?” she teases.

“You’re right, but now that I’m going to be a father,” he begins, and Tessa’s heart swells at the way his voice cracks, “it’s time to pass the name down.”

“I love you,” she says again, reaching up to cup his cheek. The oven timer sounds, and Tessa presses a quick kiss to the tip of Scott’s nose before jumping up from the couch.

She pads into the kitchen, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling the sheet of cookies out of the oven. She places them on the stove to cool and begins digging through the cabinets, pulling out the food coloring and ingredients for the frosting and setting them on the counter. She leans forward onto the countertop, propping her head up on her hand, visions of their future flashing before her eyes: holding her baby and singing softly as Scott cooks dinner, having a dance party with her toddler as Scott attempts to teach the two of them how to make pancakes, sprawling out on the kitchen floor having a family picnic. She smiles, sighing dreamily.

Scott’s arms snake around her waist and she leans back, melting into his touch. She turns to face him and he beams at her for a moment before grabbing her hips and lifting her into the air.

“We’re having a baby!” he shouts, and her legs instinctively wrap around his hips as he lowers her slightly.

“And we’re getting married,” she adds, grinning into his mouth as she kisses him. She wiggles a bit in his arms, unable to contain her joy. She wraps her arms around him and pulls him in as tight as she can.

Not bad for their first time getting each other Christmas gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♡
> 
> happy new year :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it.
> 
> Come yell at me on Twitter (@tessavirtch) or Tumblr (@tessa-virtch) if you want!
> 
> Comments, kudos, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.


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